Lessons of the Heart
by PoeticallyPathetic19
Summary: When the boys can't settle their differences, something else takes matters into its own hands. AU. Wincest.


-Note- Thanks to StarCherrieQueen who approached me with the idea of writing a fic with four different realities. She didn't give me much to go on, but it was a start that I needed and so I hope that this developed into something she was looking for. If not, I'll try again if she'll only give me more to go on than there being four different realities. And much love to Nikki who helped me with the title and everything else! -Note-

Sam was about ready to call it a night. They'd been at the Brookmore house for almost three hours and they still hadn't found anything. He'd told Dean that he didn't think there was anything to this one, just a bunch of kids running their mouths, trying to impress their girlfriends. It wouldn't be the first time that had dragged them to a "haunted house".

Dean of course was stubborn as hell on this, insisting that it wasn't rumors but actual truth somewhere behind the kids' stories. Sam didn't agree. The kids they'd interviewed earlier had been more than a little on the juvenile delinquent wannabe side and couldn't seem to get their stories quite straight. That didn't faze Dean any though, he thought the only way they could know for sure was to check the place out.

Sighing he checked his watch again and shook his head. This was ridiculous. There was nothing here, they were just running in circles to keep from talking about where things were headed for them, for the Winchester family.

For weeks now it had been the same thing, one avoidance technique after the other-and Sam knew them all. Dean had been a devout practitioner of avoidance all their lives when it came to anything emotional and he was quickly running out of techniques to use on Sam. The Brookmore house had been a last ditch effort, though Sam was sure that Dean would pull something out last minute when he least expected it. His brother was amazingly talented at things like that, in the most annoying way possible.

Dean couldn't face up to the fact that Sam had to lead his own life, one that was far away from what they were doing now. He hated the idea of leaving Dean alone because he knew that Dad would be around as little as possible and when he _was_ around, Sam knew it wouldn't be the same because Dad was even worse than Dean when it came to emotions.

Dean's inability to deal with anything remotely involving emotions was out of fear, fear that Sam had never had to face because he'd always had Dean to look up to. Dean had always been there to love him, and while Sam had tried his best to give Dean that love in return it was like his brother refused to accept it completely. He did what he had to, to keep Sam happy and that was it. He avoided everything else.

Now Dad was a different story. Dad was too caught up in his own world to see that behind Dean's smirks and Sam's angry words there was a kind of lost desperation and that was the only way they knew to reach out, even with each other.

Sam had finally come to understand that after one too many psych classes and his brother's talent for avoidance whenever he brought the subject of leaving up. Even knowing that he still hadn't be able to come straight out and tell Dean how he was feeling or what he'd realized. He did the same thing he'd always done, just as Dean was doing now. Sam wanted to talk about a change in life and Dean wanted to keep things the way they were, they couldn't both have their way so instead of talking it out, Dean hid. Sam could probably guess why too. Dean knew that he would give into Sam like he always did and worse than that, Sam was going to make his own decision whether Dean liked or not. That was probably the part that hurt most. Of course, he'd never get Dean to admit that.

Frustrated and exhausted Sam was heading down the back hall, nearly tripping over a cracked picture frame that had been more than likely left behind in some kid's haste to leave after a dare he'd scared himself silly with, when he heard Dean yell his name.

"Sammy!"

He turned and ran towards his brother's voice, panic rising in his chest. If he was wrong about this and something happened to Dean, he would never forgive himself. He had just passed the front staircase when Dean yelled his name again, letting Sam know he'd gone past him. Sam took the stairs two at a time calling Dean when he reached the top of the stairs.

"Down here, Sammy," Dean shouted to his left.

"You okay?" he demanded, skidding to a halt in front of the second to last door.

"Fine," Dean said, glancing over his shoulder. "I found something."

Relief and a touch of irritation flooded Sam. Dean couldn't have called him on his cell instead of yelling and scaring the hell out of Sam? Yelling implied that he was in trouble, _not_ that he had found something. Still, Dean was fine and he was too thankful for that to mind much that his brother had made a thoughtless error.

"What?" Sam crossed the room as Dean stepped to the side, giving him a better view. There in the center of the room, painted on the hardwood floor was something vaguely familiar, but completely pointless. There was an overlapping A and M, with two stars flanking the lettering and a small flower underneath. It looked like a child's self made symbol for their initials, not something that conjured evil.

Sam's hands clenched into fists. This was what Dean had scared the hell out of him for? What he'd subjected them to the annoyance and dangers of an abandoned house for?

"You found a star and, and what? Initials?" Sam demanded. "You're grasping at straws here, Dean! Just because you can't talk about-"

"About what, Sam?" Dean yelled back. His voice was a warning that Sam was taking things where he didn't want them to go, but that was too damn bad because Sam was sick of playing games.

"About anything! You're so damn emotionally stunted you can't just say it! How long are we going to-"

Sam's words caught in his throat, the sudden feel of air being knocked out of his lungs and a faint ringing in his ears. His first thought was that he'd taken things too far and Dean had punched him in the stomach, but the shocked look on Dean's face before his vision faded had his heart sinking in his chest. Whatever this was, it wasn't brotherly fighting gone too far.

It could have been seconds or hours later, Sam wasn't exactly sure of the time but the next thing he knew he was slamming hard into a carpeted floor, his vision and hearing returning in a violent explosion of sound and color. He groaned, or at least he thought he groaned. It was too hard to tell with his ears ringing and echoing at random.

As the flashes of color faded out, the blackness engulfed him once more and slowly began to fade itself into a fainter kind of darkness. Night, he realized. Blinking rapidly, he sucked air into his lungs with a new sense of desperation, his thoughts instantly turning to his brother. Who, if his hearing was working properly again, was gasping for air to his left.

Dean got himself together first, sputtering out a few choked _Sammy_'s and _you okay_'s. Sam nodded, faintly aware of the fact that Dean couldn't see him but unable to speak yet. He felt Dean's hand brush his and grasped it gently, letting Dean know he was still alive.

"Good," Dean muttered, quickly shaking off his hand. "What the hell just happened?" he grumbled, propping himself up on his elbows.  
Sam rubbed the back of his head and sat up. "I don't know, but I bet we're not gonna like it." He climbed to his feet and nearly tripped over Dean, who reached out a hand to steady Sam before he fell on him. Grumbling, Sam took in their surroundings. The room was dark, the only light from the pale moon flitting in through a half open window to the far right.

It was light enough for him to make out some shapes, but not enough to keep him from tripping over his brother on the floor in front of him with his spotted vision. From what he could see though it looked like Dean had barely missed slamming into a desk against the wall by an inch or two, and Sam had barely missed the floor lamp next to it.

He wasn't sure where they were but he knew they weren't in the Brookmore house anymore. That was for sure. He leaned down slightly, took Dean's hand from his thigh and pulled his brother to his feet. The sick feeling in the pit of his stomach told him they should be leaving, as quickly as they could. He was just about to suggest it when Dean snorted and swore softly.

"What?" Sam asked, confused.

"Dude, Sam, what the hell did you do? It's like you dropped us in a porno," Dean hissed.

"What are you talk-" Sam stopped mid sentence and cocked his head to the side, picking up sound from the other side of the room. Dean's hearing must have returned before his because he hadn't heard anything but Dean until now.

Panting, that's what he was hearing. Panting and _moaning_. "Jesus," he swore. His brother was right, he really _had _dropped them in a porno.

Dean laughed quietly and pressed a hand to his mouth to muffle the sound. Sam blushed furiously and gave Dean a gentle shove, glad that it was too dark for his brother to see his face. This was unbelievable. He'd never thought he'd be more embarrassed than the time Dean had caught him watching porn, and he was _so_ wrong.

This was much worse. Judging by the sounds they were making and from what he could see in the dark…he was pretty sure that what they were doing was illegal in most states and too x-rated for the dirtiest of pornos.

"Let's get out of here," Sam admonished Dean. Why were they sticking around in the first place? They had to figure out where they were, how they'd gotten here and how the hell to get back home. They were in the middle of a job, or had Dean forgotten that?

"Man, what did you do?"

"I don't know! We don't even know if it's my fault! Let's just-"

"Sammy," a breathless voice cried out.

They both froze halfway to the door at the sound of his name. Dean turned around, his shoulder brushing against Sam's chest. For a heart stopping second Sam thought they had been caught. But no one ever called him Sammy except for Dean, and Dean was standing right next to him. On top of that the voice didn't sound angry, just desperate. A second later an answering, _oh, God_ sounded and both boys whirled around to face the bed again.

"Shit," Dean muttered. "Sammy, that's you."

Sam could feel his brother's eyes on him, but he couldn't bring himself to look down at him. This night was just getting better and better.

"You don't know that," Sam argued weakly. "I'm not the only Sam."

He could hear the disbelief in Dean's silence and said nothing because he was afraid that Dean was right about this. It wasn't logical and the odds were damn near astronomical, but then again how logical was it that they'd been in the Brookmore house one second and this apartment the next?

"It sounds like you."

"How would you know?" he squeaked, much to his dismay. On second thought he wasn't sure if he wanted to know how Dean knew that or how much he knew about Sam at all.

"Let's just see," Dean suggested, elbowing him in the side.

"What?" he half yelled, before he caught himself. "No, Dean, let's just go."

"Come on _Sammy_," Dean taunted. "Let's see if it's you and then we'll go. I promise."

Sam heaved a heavy sigh but followed Dean back towards the bed. This was crazy, he didn't want anything to do with this. What if whoever it was caught them, how the hell were they going to explain what they were doing there? Sam was pretty sure telling them that they thought it was Sam in bed wasn't going to go over too well and he was even more sure that there would be police involved any second if they didn't get out of there.

He reached a hand out towards Dean, ready to drag him out of the room if he had to when a strangled groan and another _Sammy _reached his ears. His stomach clenched with the familiarity of that voice, of that _Sammy_.

"Dean, I," Sam swallowed hard and felt his face burn with the realization of just what was going on. "I think that's _you_."

Dean snorted and shot him a quick glance over his shoulder, "I don't think so. It's definitely you, Sam. There's no getting out of it."

"No, I think it's me too," he choked out.

Dean stopped then and slowly turned to face him. "Did you hit your head?"

Sam swallowed and moved past Dean. His brother wasn't going to believe him, how could he when Sam wasn't even sure he believed himself? But he had to know. His heart racing, he lowered his gaze to the bed and held his breath.

He felt Dean come to stand next to him, their shoulders almost touching. Dean's arms were crossed over his chest in wait, probably to laugh at Sam, when he heard a strangled sound come from the Dean standing next to him and not the Dean on the bed. Because there was no doubt in his mind, as the figures on the bed shifted, moonlight highlighting the flecks of gold in green eyes, that it _was_ Dean on the bed.

Or more accurately _in_ Sam.

Sam stood there paralyzed as Dean thrust inside of him, or as the other Dean thrust inside the other him. It was suddenly too hot in the room and he was finding it harder and harder to breathe as he watched his older brother bring him to climax. His body shuddered with the pleasure of Dean inside him, Dean's mouth swallowing every sound his other self was making.

"Since when am I your type?" Dean joked weakly.

That was a good question. A _very_ good question.

Sam tried to answer Dean but found he couldn't make his mouth move or his throat work. He was too focused on Dean's erratic thrusts and his other self's whimpers to do much else than stare. It was overwhelming to see himself with Dean like this, mind numbing really. He could barely get his mind to process the fact that he was seeing it with his own eyes, live and in person with his Dean standing next to him.

So much for going back to the motel and forcing Dean to talk. The only thing he was likely to get tonight was the silent treatment and guilty looks. Of course then he wouldn't be able to say anything but _Dean, I-,_ before he lost his nerve or Dean walked away.

Sam watched in amazement and fear as other Dean held other Sam's shaking body tight against his chest, his mouth moving over Sam's neck and shoulders with loving care. Dean's hands were tangled in his hair, while Sam's clutched desperately at his shoulders in the aftermath of their lovemaking.

His Dean cleared his throat and left the room before Sam could say a word. Not that he knew what he could say to Dean. It's not like he'd ever been trained to deal with something like this, or had even thought of something like this happening.

Glancing once more at their other selves in disbelief, Sam followed behind him, not caring when the bedroom door slammed shut behind him. The Sam and Dean in the bedroom didn't seem to be able to see them, or they would have been busted for sure already. They'd been so close that Sam had actually been able to make out the sprinkle of freckles on his brother's nose and shoulders, and the soft touch of their mother's features only accentuated by the moonlight.

Sam put as much distance between the door and both Deans as he could. This was all too unreal for him. One second they were arguing in a haunt less, haunted house and the next they were on the floor in a bedroom where _they_ were having sex.

_Voluntarily_.

The idea of someone having sex with Dean voluntarily wasn't shocking to Sam-he could have any girl he wanted and more than likely had, maybe not even the fact that the other Sam had seemed to enjoy it, but the fact that they were having consensual sex with _each other_ was mind numbing.

He watched Dean out of the corner of his eyes as his brother sat in a chair equal distance from the bedroom and from Sam. He hadn't said a word in almost five minutes and it was beginning to unnerve Sam. Dean was usually the one with the quick witted remarks or even straight out disgust. For someone so hell bent on keeping his feelings hidden from everyone, he had no problems being a smart ass or opinionated.

Usually.

Now Dean was the quietest Sam had ever seen him, the day he'd left for Stanford excluded of course. He fidgeted uncomfortable but said nothing, deciding to see outwait Dean on this one. He couldn't even begin to guess the right words for a situation like this. Of all the paranormal and supernatural crap they'd put up with in their lives they'd never dealt with…with what? Doubles? Alternate realities?

Sam wasn't even sure which it was. Considering they couldn't be seen or heard, as far as he knew, he was betting they were in some kind of alternate reality though. Maybe one in which Dean and him weren't brothers? That would make more sense, though he was still having a hard time imagining Dean with a guy, even Sam.

Taking in his surroundings, Sam was unnerved by how alike their old apartments this place was. Everything about it was familiar. There was a battered couch flanked by two equally battered chairs in the center of the room, a coffee table centered between them in front of a fairly old T.V.

In the far right corner of the room, between the window and the previous bedroom was a folding table and three chairs dining room chairs, scattered with papers and gun oil. He didn't see any weapons but he knew without a doubt that they were there somewhere, and could probably find them with his eyes closed.

To Sam's left there was a small kitchen with just the basics: sink, stove, refrigerator, weapons. Behind him there were two more doors, he was guessing one was a bathroom and the other was a bedroom.

It didn't matter how close he was to Dean, even in this reality, there was no way he would ever share a room with Sam. That held too much meaning.

"What's today?" Dean said suddenly, sitting up straighter in his chair.

"Uh, the 19th. Why?" Sam questioned. They'd just caught a glimpse of themselves having sex and he was asking about dates? Maybe it had caused a break in reality for him or some kind of quickly repressed psychological response. Or maybe he was just being Dean and driving Sam insane at every possible turn.

Dean sighed in disgust and sank back in the chair. "Same day." He nodded towards the newspaper lying on the coffee table in front of him. "I think that was more than a star and some initials we're dealing with Sam."

Sam didn't miss the irritation in Dean's voice or the hesitance in it either when he said his name. He'd quit using Sammy and gone back to Sam. Sammy was probably ruined for him now, though oddly enough not for Sam. Which should only show just how sick Sam was getting staying on the road, in this way of life he'd left behind-he'd thought permanently. That was an argument winning reason he had right there.

"We don't know that's what did this."

It probably was, he knew. He just didn't feel like nodding and wallowing in the silence like Dean would prefer. He was freaked the hell out and more confused than he'd been in his life. He wanted Dean to say he felt the same way or come up with a big brother solution Dean was usually so great at.

"Then what did?" Dean folded his arms behind his head and sat back, waiting for Sam to explain away what was happening. Only he couldn't.

xXx

Dean fought to keep his gaze on Sam, though he was beginning to realize it was harder to keep his gaze on Sam's than on Sam himself. He found his eyes trying to wander Sam's body like it had done in the bedroom, memorizing every line it could drink in.

The image of his brother's broad shoulders and bare chest in the moonlight, his head thrown back and mouth open, gasping for air was all too vivid in his mind. He'd noticed every detail in that short space of time that he'd never really paid attention to before. Dean knew Sam's body as well as he knew his own.. They'd lived in close quarters and on the road until Sam was eighteen and Dean was relearning those scars and markings all over again now as they searched for Dad, but somehow he'd never really _seen_ Sam's body before tonight.

He noticed the smooth tan skin of his stomach stretched over perfect abs, the way his muscles clenched when he arched beneath Dean, and the barely perceptible quiver in Sam's lithe body. More than sight though, he remembered sound, much to his chagrin. The soft, desperate pants from them both. The gut clenching whimpers that had poured from Sam when Dean touched him in just the right place. And the worshipping _Sammy,_ he'd said too many times to count before.

He wasn't going to deny that he'd felt something when he saw himself making love to Sam, at least not to himself. His heart had skipped a beat, or four, when he'd held Sam close and kissed him more tenderly than Dean had ever kissed anyone. Even here Sam was different to the other him, special, and deserving of more than Dean could ever give him.

If Sam asked what he thought or _felt, _since this was Sam after all, he'd deny it and then more than likely smack him upside the head to emphasize his point. Dean knew his reaction to what they'd seen wasn't anywhere close to normal. Even so, he'd never looked at Sam any other way than an overly adoring older brother would. Up until a few minutes ago, anyway when the all too graphic reminder of his overwhelming love for Sam had been thrown back into his face.

"I don't know what happened," Sam sighed in defeat. "But we're obviously in some kind of alternate reality."

"Alternate reality?" he asked skeptically. Of all the things they'd come across, alternate realities were not among them.

"Well, what else could it be? We can't be seen or heard, it's the same day but a totally different reality. We're probably not even brothers here."

Dean stood up suddenly. He could hear the faint jingle of keys being shoved into the lock and the cursing and scrambling of their other selves behind the bedroom door. Apparently whoever was at the door was unexpected and unwelcome company.

His other self came out first, shutting the door quickly and throwing himself down on the couch, remote suddenly in hand. His face was flushed and sweaty, his mouth still slightly swollen. It didn't take a genius to figure out what he'd been doing. Dean doubted that was going to matter in the next few seconds if he was right about who was behind the door. Only one person could get Dean up and moving like that, afraid that they might find him if he was in this situation.

Glancing rapidly back and forth from the T.V. to the door, his other self chewed nervously on his lower lip. If he kept it up he'd be tasting blood soon enough, and this Dean knew that from personal experience.

"I wouldn't be too sure about that, Sam," Dean muttered dryly.

Sam shrugged and didn't look his way, instead focused on the latest arrival. Sam was trying desperately to explain their situation away and convince himself their other selves weren't brothers like they were, but Dean didn't have to even see the man that came through the front door to know it was Dad. Or to realize that the scrambling and cursing was because the brothers were treading in dangerous waters, alternate reality or not.

"Dad," the other Dean said, shooting him a curious glance as he released his lower lip. "What are you doing back?"

Alternate reality Dad smiled warmly at his son, none the wiser to his two son's previous activities. "I got halfway out of town when I realized I hadn't left you boys this month's rent."

"Oh." Other Dean stood up and took the offered money. "We could have paid it ourselves, Dad. You didn't have to come all the way back here."

"I know," Dad said in a rush. "But I didn't want you out there hustling any more than you have to. I'm not sure how long this job is going to keep me away. You take care of your brother."

"Yeah, Dad. I will." His signature smirk crossed the other Dean's flushed face and had Dean's stomach roiling.

_Yeah, I bet he will_, Dean thought sickly. _Just not the way you mean_.

He watched Dad clap him on the shoulder and leave the apartment, not even questioning Dean's well fucked state. If he had noticed he would have said something to Dean about having girls over when Sam was home and he was gone. Dad didn't want anything to distract Dean from watching Sam, even as adults.

Dean turned back to Sam. "You're right about not being able to be seen or heard," he agreed. "Any other ideas?"


End file.
